


Nice Like That

by mrs_d



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftercare, Dom Sharon Carter, Dom/sub Undertones, F/F, Femslash, Light BDSM, Mild Painplay, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, Shameless Smut, Sharon likes pretty things, Sub Natasha Romanov, Trust Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 09:31:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7096909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_d/pseuds/mrs_d
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Sharon,” Natasha said to Steve in the graveyard before they parted ways six months ago. “She’s nice.”</p><p><i>Nice</i> isn’t the word she’d use now, with Sharon kneeling above her, tightening the silk scarves securing Natasha’s wrists to the headboard. <i>Considerate</i> might be fitting, she thinks, as Sharon’s slender finger slips under the fabric, making sure it’s not too tight. Sharon kisses the thin skin there, and Nat decides that <i>gentle</i> would work, too.</p><p>For now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nice Like That

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I'm supposed to be writing SamSteve wedding fic, but I had to give the girls some love, too.

“Sharon,” Natasha said to Steve in the graveyard before they parted ways six months ago. “She’s nice.”

 _Nice_ isn’t the word she’d use now, with Sharon kneeling above her, tightening the silk scarves securing Natasha’s wrists to the headboard. _Considerate_ might be fitting, she thinks, as Sharon’s slender finger slips under the fabric, making sure it’s not too tight. Sharon kisses the thin skin there, and Nat decides that _gentle_ would work, too.

For now.

“You remember the safe word?” Sharon murmurs.

“Coconut,” Natasha says automatically, even though she’s never had to use it.

They picked it because it was easy to remember: Sharon’s shampoo, her lip balm, even the milk she puts on her cereal every morning is coconut; Natasha had to start buying it specially for her. The candles burning on the dresser are coconut, too — a gift for tonight.

“Good,” Sharon breathes against her skin, and Natasha flushes at the praise.

Sharon must notice because she smirks and runs her hands down Natasha’s bare chest. The faint scrape of Sharon’s blunt nails and gun calluses set off chills that make her nipples harden all at once. Natasha squirms slightly, but the scarves hold, and Sharon ducks down to lick between the index and middle finger of Natasha’s left hand. It’s a special spot, a secret spot that Natasha has trusted no one else with — to be sure, Sharon is _trustworthy_.

The wet pressure of her tongue is almost as good there as it is on Nat’s clit. A small, desperate noise escapes her throat before she can stop it. Sharon shushes her, breath tickling Natasha’s palm, and Natasha lifts her hips right off the mattress before letting herself go limp.

Sharon pulls back and licks her lips — slowly, delicately. “That’s it,” she croons. “Stay still. Be good for me.”

Natasha nods, a little breathless, and Sharon shifts down. Her body is a warm, solid weight, small but compact, almost every inch a muscle, like Nat herself. She is reminded, oddly, of the first time she met Sharon, how the first impression she got was _fragile_. But one sparring session later, Natasha had to correct herself. Sharon might look delicate, but she’s dangerous, a lily lined with steel.

“What are you thinking about?” Sharon asks her, but she licks a stripe along Natasha’s neck before she can answer. Her hand worms its way between them, and from the minute movements, Nat knows she’s touching herself, just a little. Teasing, waiting.

“Hm?” Sharon prompts, her mouth now at Natasha’s nipple. “Tell me.”

Natasha swallows, her throat rough and nearly dry. For someone who’s often paid to talk dirty, she’s not very good at this part, not when it’s real, when Sharon’s brown eyes are locked on hers in the semi-darkness.

“Words,” she manages, finally deciding on honesty, since she knows Sharon won’t mind, won’t pressure her for a detailed fantasy. “Just words. Chasing each other around my brain.”

“Hm,” Sharon says again, but it’s thoughtful this time.

She doesn’t say more, but she shifts slightly, and, before Natasha can blink, there are two fingers moving inside her — firm, fast, wet — and teeth on her nipple. Natasha bucks up in surprise, nearly throwing Sharon off her.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Sharon scolds, and just like that all touch is gone, Sharon’s off the bed and heading for the closet.

Definitely not _nice_ , Natasha thinks, panting.

“What did I say?” Sharon asks over her shoulder, and there’s the steel that Natasha craves.

“Stay still,” she replies immediately.

“That’s right.”

Sharon picks up a riding crop, the one with the bedazzled handle that an old girlfriend gave Natasha as a joke one Christmas. It’s Sharon’s favorite; she likes the sparkles. The loop of leather at its end has gotten softer and is nearly worn through from use. Natasha’s wondering if she should get Sharon a new one when Sharon turns around, and all her thoughts evaporate.

“Now, you said,” Sharon drawls, dragging the tip of the crop down Natasha’s chest, tracing the underside of her breasts, “you _promised_ you’d hold still, that I didn’t need to tie your legs, too.”

Natasha hears the leather snap a split-second before the sting registers on her thigh. It’s light — Sharon never hits her hard unless she begs for it, and Natasha never needs more than a taste of something bitter to even out the sweet of making love to Sharon — but it’s enough to make Nat’s breath catch in her throat, to make her wriggle a little more, so Sharon will hit her again.

A second flash of pain blooms beside the first. Natasha keeps it up, shifting as much as she dares, careful not to pull too hard on the headboard. She could break it if she had to, could lift her legs and kick or choke her way to freedom, but the point of nights like tonight is to prove that she’s not a weapon, a gun for someone else to fire. She can surrender, lay herself down, choose to be restrained.

Eventually, when her skin is peppered with warm spots that throb with her heartbeat, Natasha slows her movements and smiles up at Sharon, grateful now, not teasing or begging for punishment, and Sharon smiles back, never disgusted by what Nat needs. Natasha realizes, like she does every time, how lucky she is to have someone like Sharon, someone who loves playing with an unloaded gun.

“Good?” Sharon asks.

Natasha nods, and Sharon lays down the crop to crawl up the bed, spreading Natasha’s thighs and kissing the sore spots. All at once the spike of adrenaline brought on by the pain settles into something sweeter but no less urgent. She forces herself to stay still, pliant under Sharon’s hands and lips, even though her cunt is swollen and aching for touch.

Sharon’s next question is a ghost of warm air into the crease of Natasha’s thigh. “You gonna let me fuck you?”

“Yes,” Natasha replies right away.

“Yes what?” asks Sharon, putting just enough steel back in her voice to make Natasha shiver.

It takes a second for her to find the right answer. “Yes, please.”

Sharon rewards her, sliding three fingers in and giving her a long, slow lick. Natasha knows she can’t move, but she can’t not move either, and the result is an aborted thrust of her hips. Sharon’s other hand drops to Natasha’s thigh, lighting up the tender places, leaving a sting that weaves into the pleasure of Sharon’s mouth. She sucks Natasha’s clit, squeezing it between her lips, giving her almost enough pressure, all the while keeping her bruise-tight grip, reminding Natasha not to ask for more.

Then she stops, her breath hot and uneven, her lips bare inches away.

Nat lets out a little cry of frustration. She wishes she could touch Sharon, reach down and bury her fingers in Sharon’s hair, pull it out of its messy ponytail and tug it, twist her hands in it and hold Sharon in place, make her give Natasha what she needs. But Sharon glances up and smiles like she knows exactly what Nat is thinking, and how much Nat loves not being in charge.

Steve would probably like that, too, Natasha thinks out of nowhere, and while Sharon heads back to the closet, Nat has a sudden vision, alarming in its heat and intensity, of Sharon tying him up spread-eagle, climbing on top to take her pleasure while denying him his own. Natasha wonders if he’d beg for it, if Sharon would let him speak at all. Maybe she’d gag him. Maybe she’d strap on the harness she’s stepping into right now, the pretty pale pink one, and fuck him. Natasha would pay good money to see that, though maybe Sharon would agree to tie her down, too, to let her watch. Sharon is _generous_ , after all.

So generous that she crawls up on the bed again and spreads Natasha’s thighs. The vibrator at the base of her cock hums between them, and Sharon rubs the tip against Natasha, brushing her clit once before she slides in with one smooth motion. Natasha can’t help it, she surges up to meet Sharon’s mouth in a kiss, and Sharon doesn’t punish her for moving anymore. Her tongue still tastes like Natasha when Sharon slips it past the seam of her lips. She licks into Nat’s mouth like she knows her way around, and of course she does; Natasha is hers and hers alone.

The confidence and trust of Sharon’s kiss is enough to make Natasha need to pull back for a breath. “Sharon, please, please—”

“I’ve got you,” Sharon murmurs against Natasha’s lips, her voice unsteady for the first time all night.

She draws back and starts to fuck Natasha hard and fast, the way they both need. The vibration jolts Nat’s clit in an uneven pattern that keeps her on the brink long enough that when Sharon lingers for longer than a few seconds, the steady touch sets Natasha off.

She writhes against the scarves holding her down and thrusts up as the first wave hits, her cunt throbbing against Sharon’s cock like the tight muscle would rather push her out than keep her in. Sharon fucks her through it, fast but gentler now, and the motion sets off another wave that whites out the world outside of her body. Natasha can feel every sting from the whip, every kiss, every breath of Sharon on her skin.

When she can breathe again, she takes Sharon’s mouth, thanking her wordlessly. Sharon pulls out and reaches down, grinding her cock against the mattress, muffling the sound of the vibrator as she manipulates it between them, moving it against her where she needs it. Her kisses get sloppy and uneven, and she twists her face away when she comes, her eyes squeezed shut and her mouth gaping for a long, perfect moment.

A bead of sweat drops down her neck, and Nat leans up to lick away the salty tang. Sharon moans out loud and her hips shift again, pressing hard once more against Natasha before pulling away. Her cock settles against Nat’s inner thigh, hot and wet and still buzzing enough to tingle.

After a moment, Sharon pushes herself up and undoes Natasha’s bonds even before she switches off the vibrator.

“I’ll be right back,” she says like she always does, with a swift, gentle kiss. “Test your fingers, make sure they’re not numb.”

Natasha smiles and does as Sharon’s asked, watching her take their toys back to the closet and walk into the ensuite bathroom. She’ll return in a moment, Nat knows, with a cool cloth and aloe vera lotion for her thighs. Sharon will clean up, soothe her stinging skin, and blow out the candles before taking Natasha into her arms, so they can sleep.

Sharon will take care of her. She’s nice like that.


End file.
